


Love and War...and Charles

by Splotcher



Category: Metalocalypse
Genre: M/M, ancient beings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-16
Updated: 2014-02-16
Packaged: 2018-01-12 15:30:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1190289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Splotcher/pseuds/Splotcher
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charles Foster Offdenson has always been badass…so much so that it seems he just can’t be human.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Metalocalypse is not mine, no way no how…
> 
> Author Notes: My first story on the fandom…I hope you enjoy, please know that it will be steadily more N/C as I get going, just wanted to give some background in this first part…so, in case you wonder, Inanna was the ancient Sumerian goddess of Love and Warfare. I was reading up on her one day and thinking that if Selaticia came from Sumeria himself (don’t know, but for this story, true), he might have gone head to head with some of the old deities. Of course, seeing as he’s still around, that probably meant they lost or it was a tie. Anywho, hope you enjoy.

When he died, he came back with a friend. His friend gave him power, knowledge…and perspective. 

 

All the other times that the chosen ones of the prophecy came back, they came back either alone or all at once, but always missed a vital element. The Half-man had seen to that. But the Half-man had not expected one lowly manager to kill himself on purpose to ensure he wouldn’t be used…

 

And it was that decision that brought him in contact with her.

 

Before, he did quite well by himself-his knowledge of people served him well, not to mention his own ruthlessness. But when she found him, floating between life and death before the gears brought him back…she changed him.

 

His senses were far better now. He was stronger. He gained certain abilities… She gave him power, knowledge, magic…with one stipulation.

 

He had to bring about the destruction of the Half-man. The one that killed her. For that, she would send him back, reincarnated with all the power she could give.

 

He had agreed of course…why not? It was his intention to destroy the man anyway, for attempting to harm his boys. When he accepted, the world had fallen to pieces, torn in a maelstrom of lives he’d never lived, a place he’d never set foot in and suddenly he comes face to face with what she must have been before she died, pearls around her neck and a blue stone staff, angry and hatred filled as she raised the staff against a terrible foe…and then the light is too bright and he woke up in a bed, with a Gear holding paddles, ready to shock him again if he leaves once more.

 

“Are you with us, sir?”

 

“Yes…” he managed to rasp, heart pounding and strained. The Gears immediately set about to tend his wounds.

 

Behind them, she watches him. Her eyes are cold chips of fire. Before he loses consciousness, he asks her name. The Klokateers are too busy to wonder at his hallucinations.

 

She whispers it to him from across the room, but he still hears it.

 

Inanna.

 

*^*^*^*^*^*^**^*^*^*^^*^*^*^**^*^*^

 

Since he has been back, there are myths and rumors circulating about him through Mordhaus. Many saw him die. He came back different, stronger, more dangerous. His knowledge of the boys was preternatural-he always knew if something was wrong with them. He retained more information now…writing things down was for show, or to give the aides something to do. 

 

He finds her in his research into the prophecy one night. She looks up at him from pages of a worn text, standing on a battlefield in a page titled ‘The dance of Inanna’.

 

_"She stirs confusion and chaos against those who are disobedient to her, speeding carnage and inciting the devastating flood, clothed in terrifying radiance.”_

 

She is the Sumerian goddess of love and war. There is no information of how she died. It was most likely lost along with many of the records surrounding the prophecy. 

 

Kill the Half-man. That was the price she asked for her power and knowledge. 

 

He could live with that.

 

^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^^**^*^^**^*^^*^*^*^*^

It didn't take him too long to realize that by accepting her power, he accepted parts of what made her.

He found that he excelled in War. Love, sexual love, however, had always been beyond him. That hadn’t bothered him much before. He was always too busy, too busy to worry about those things.

But while his grasp on warfare and things relating to it got sharper, he found himself suddenly that much more aware of everyone around him.

 

Some more than others. Some tall, dark haired vocalists far more than others.

 

But he couldn’t let that interfere. He had a job to do, and that was to keep his boys happy and to protect them and keep them safe. He would focus on taking down his enemies.

 

And he doubted Nathan would be interested anyway. He was staunchly against receiving attention from male groupies and avoided them like the plague, and they looked like supermodels. 

 

Charles Foster Offdenson did not look like a supermodel. There was really nothing about him that he felt garnered any sort of sexual desire or love. He hoped that the aspect of Love inside him didn’t make him start propositioning people on the street. They had Skwissgar for that.

 

He would just have to focus on war.


	2. Chapter 2

_He feels the rock hard muscle above him, and it fills him with trepidation._

_He cannot do this._

_And yet, he doesn’t try to fight when the kisses descend on him, filling his body with heat as he tries not to make any sound, because no one must know, no one…_

_And his traitorous body arches, wantonly into the grip of his lover and he can just barely keep himself from crying out-whatever his lover has done, it fills him with desire and he would give anything to keep that feeling, and that terrifies him beyond anything---_

_“Look at me.” His lover whispers, and he can feel his terror mounting even as desire curls white hot in his body._

_His lover repeats the demand, sinking fingernails into his too eager body._

_“Look at me!”_

_He feels compelled to look in his lover’s eyes--_

And wakes up amidst his terror and memories of green fire. He’s sweating, and his heart is slamming in his chest, not unlike the moment he came back from the dead. His room is flickering, the lamps stuttering with electricity along with his rapid fire heartbeat. 

A loud beeping noise startles him and a lamp bulb explodes. He curses himself and wills his heart to slow, grabbing the phone off the bedside table.

“Yes…an electrical surge, yes, I can see it in my rooms, just get it fixed.” He hurriedly cuts the call short, forcing himself to take deep breaths. The electrical surge starts to calm as he does. A small part of his mind hopes that no one got hurt with the surge. Good Klokateers were hard to find and while the band hadn’t been hurt (this he knew with certainty), they could have been. He needed to get this under control.

He takes a few more soothing breaths and moves out of the bed. The electricity has returned to its normal flow. His clothes are drenched with sweat-he wrinkles his nose at that and set about to remedy the situation.

Clothes thrown to the laundry, he steps into the heated spray and wills himself to think of anything other than the dream (nightmare?) he just had. The stifling fear had pretty much killed any interest the dream had stirred, and he feels like his very soul was exhausted. He presses his head against the tile, the cool porcelain a stark contrast to the heat.

He had dreams like that before, before he even saw her…but that was intense. The dreams had been getting steadily more intense. At first it had been a touch. Then a kiss. Now he was having full blown fantasies, and there was nothing he could do about it. Was there?

He groaned into the tile. Things were much easier in the nine months he was ‘dead’ and all he dreamt about was movements of military excursions and standing on roads watching military convoys pass by. Why couldn’t he have more of those dreams? Those were good dreams.

He came out of the shower, wrapping a towel around his waist. He settles in front of the mirror, head bowed. 

He needs to be able to stop this. He cannot allow this part of him (her?) to interfere. He has a job to do, and thinking of phantom lovers that have very dangerous implications is a distraction he cannot handle right now. 

 

He wipes a hand across the mirror, clearing the condensation away to look at himself.

 

He cannot be distracted. And he needs to do something about the electrical surges as soon as possible.

 

*^^*^*^*^*^**^^*^*^*^*^*^*

 

“And thens the lights, they starts to flicker like stars!”

 

“The ah, Gears inform me it was just an electrical surge, Toki.” He pats the rhythm guitarist on the shoulder much more confidently then he feels.

 

“Ja. That, or the old ghosts are upsets, and causing the troubles.”

 

“Woah! Ghosts cause stuff like…stuff like that?” Nathan blurts out looking away from the TV. He always had a childlike glee when Toki started recounting the dark practices and occult knowledge of his homelands and…well…anywhere, really.

 

“Is true. Ghostses and all types of magic affects the world. Maybies dark spirit very angry, or very scaredses, and causes things to moveses around and den-“

 

“And den Tokis shuts ups. No needs to provokes the angrys elves!”

 

“Awesome idea for a song; angry ghost slut electrocutes people. And this happens forever.”

 

“Dood. It could be titled ‘Electric Ghost Whore.’”

 

“That is fucking awesome.” Nathan’s eyes brightened up. 

 

His heart flutters. The lights stutter. He needed to get that fixed.

 

Skwissgar screams at Toki for upsetting the house fairies or some other such nonsense. He quickly tamps down on the fluttering in his chest. Murderface tries to sneak a claim on the song title while Pickles and Nathan divide their attention between the guitarists and shooting him down.

 

“Yes, well…if we are all done here, I need to get back to work.”

 

“WAIIIIIT!” Nathan’s bellow didn’t startle him at all-he’d been used to enough of those throughout his life.

 

“Yes…What can I, ah, help you with there, Nathan?”

 

“Hang out with us.”

 

_Not a good idea right now. Not after last night._

 

“Well, I’d love too, but unfortunately, I do have a great deal of, ah, work to do today. Maybe tomorrow.”

 

He needs to get out of here right now, before his mind starts to wander into uncomfortable territory.

 

“See you all a bit later, then!” He quickly left.

 

*^*^**^*^*^*^*^**^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^

 

He spends the night in the library, researching various spells and incantations. The dark spell books he had kept from the boys on a regular basis now made far more sense. He found himself correcting some of the newer tomes on their ingredients and word usage. The passage of time really did change all things. 

 

He didn’t know if he could have recalled the spells in these books from memory. It felt like too much work, and he didn’t want to rely on the accounts in his mind. What if time made her memory fade as well?

 

He had managed to find several rituals that might stop, or at least centralize, the effects of his dreaming. He bet he could control his emotions when awake, but while he slept, he would need a few extra safeguards, at least until it was controlled.

 

He could at least put in a few before he went to sleep next.

 

_Green fire…_

 

He quickly swallows another gulp of coffee. Why couldn’t she have given him the aspects of War and left it at that?!

^*^**^*^*^^**^*^^^^^**^*^**

 

He carefully finishes the marks on the floor, idly correcting some of the runes next to the bedpost. He can’t pinpoint why the ones in the book are wrong, just that they are and they bring to his mind all the ways that this spell could go wrong.

 

When he is finished, he has to crawl on the bed in order to make sure he doesn’t damage the runes. Chalk is flimsy, but if this works, he going to try making something more permanent.

 

In the center of the scrawling runes on the floor is his queen size bed, and in eight points, a focus (he ended up using sparkling water in brown beer bottles –it feels right as the white capped waters in containers of golden ice) which would serve to bottle up any extra energy that was flowing from him.

 

He settles into the mattress, turning off the lights except for the one just outside the circle. He’s exhausted beyond all measure, but somehow he doesn’t feel like it will get any better. 

*^*^*^*^*^*^^^

He’s sitting behind his desk, running through reports. They’re pretty mundane, and he feels rather relaxed even though he’s sure that somewhere, someplace, there is mayhem building in the depths of Mordhaus.

 

The door swings open suddenly, and Nathan stomps into his office.

 

“Something I can help you with?” He asks as he shuffles the reports.

 

“I know you’re hiding something from me.”

 

His head shot up suddenly, looking up at the looming figure. “I ah, beg your pardon?”

 

“You’re hiding something.”

 

“I, ah, don’t know where you might have gotten that from, wait, is this about those nine months? Because I promise to tell you about that in time…” He trails off as Nathan stomps around the desk. 

 

He can’t stop a small squeak from slipping from his mouth as Nathan’s hand catches him by the tie and yanks him from the chair, one powerful arm snaking around him and pinning him to the front man’s chest.

 

He can feel the heat surrounding him and his traitorous body is so weak. He’s trembling like a leaf, a delicious curl of desire in his stomach. He doesn’t even think about shoving the bigger man away.

 

“You’re hiding something from me.” Nathan growls down at him. Charles can’t help the moan that escapes him.

 

He feels his mind return a bit at his admission.

 

“Wait, Nathan, we need to stop, we can’t mmph-!” What was left of his body’s resistance melts as he is silenced with a kiss.

 

His mind is swirling now, half caught in the kiss and the other half realizing what a terrible mistake this is, the cameras are on and the door is wide open and _they cannot do this._

 

But he can’t speak, and his body is no longer responding to any command, and Nathan has stopped kissing him and has removed his tie and oh…

 

“Tell me what you’re hiding.” Nathan growls lowly into his ear.

 

A terrible thread of fear slides into the desire curling in his body. He can’t speak, torn between wanting to give this man everything he had and needing to get away.

 

This is wrong; Nathan isn’t like this, not with him…never with him.

 

_“Tell me.”_

 

He bolts upright in bed, heart hammering. Any more dreams like this, and he’ll be dead for sure. Do people often die of lust-induced heart attacks in their sleep? Probably would end up being a good song title.

 

A quick glance around the room proves that the seal is working. Even as his heart hammers, the light just outside the seal is doing nothing but steadily lighting the room.

 

Definitely need to keep that seal.

 

He vows to research dreamless nights, but he has the feeling it won’t do any good. 

 

^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^**^*^*^*^*^


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author Notes: I should comment that Inanna was the goddess of Prostitution, the flood and gentle rain, and she had a thing for kitties (you know, the more I read up on her, the more obvious it is that she has to be like a patron goddess for Dethklok…even though, by their admission, women can’t be metal) among other things. 
> 
> *^*^*^*^**^*^**^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^**^*^*^

He wakes up in a compromising situation-with his head on a beautiful woman’s scantily clad chest. That has only happened a few times in his life, all within this last year.

 

“I ah…really wish you wouldn’t do that.” He sighs. He didn’t have dreams-he should have known this would happen.

 

She just smiles, running her hand lazily through his hair while she curiously studies the object on the bed next to her, like she has never seen it before.

 

She probably hasn’t….it’s a remote.

 

He watches her study and lightly touch the electronic device, switching the TV on and off in a sort of wonderment. Her lovely features and her curves would tempt any one of his boys –no, anyone, really- into slavering horny dogs. Her hair is a tangled, seductive mess of black and her eyes seem to shift colors, but always return to a deep blue.

 

“May I, ah, ask you what brings you out of my deep subconscious?” 

 

“Take him to bed.” The TV begins to change channels.

 

“I…ah…what?”

 

“Until you gain control of what I’ve given you, the aspect of love will become more and more insistent. I cannot help you with it- I gave you everything I was. Soon, I won’t be able to manifest myself anymore-you’ll have to call me out.”

 

“That’s…ah…I’m sorry?”

 

She gave him a condescending look. “Take him to bed.”

 

“I don’t-“

 

“Don’t give me that. I sleep in your soul now, at least for a while. I was the goddess of love. If I can tell when…regular jackoffs…. are in love or lust or whatever your young civilizations call it these days…I can tell when you are doing the same thing.”

 

“I…can’t.” 

 

She fixes him with a sharp gaze. “And why not? Is he not desirable for this time?”

 

“He is…ah…extremely desirable.” He flushes.

 

“To you as well.”

 

“Well…yes.”

 

She makes a rude impatient noise. She brings her hand up and taps his nose with every word. “So. Take. Him. To. Bed.”

 

“It’s not that easy. And please don’t do that, my nose is ticklish.”

 

She rolls her eyes in exasperation. “You like him, you want him in your bed. Have sex with him and get Love back under control so that you can focus on War and killing the Half-man.”

 

“You don’t understand.” He can feel his ears turn red at the flippant way she told him what to do. As if he could ever do that…as if Nathan would ever even acquiesce to it. Nathan would never…could never want him.

 

“And why wouldn’t he want you?” Her voice is soft, dangerous.

 

Oh, damn. He forgot about that little hitch in their living arrangement. She lived inside his soul…a mere shadow, now that she had given him what was left of her power after being in limbo for thousands of years. She, in return, could tell what he was thinking. Sometimes he believes that’s an unfair arrangement-he has always been a private person.

 

It wouldn’t do to try to lie or deflect, but he still doesn’t answer right away. 

 

“I…am not handsome. Not in this time, and I doubt in any other. I excel in many other things, but I…ah…don’t fit the conventional mold of beauty and-“

 

“Conventional mold of beauty? Foolish one, that is absolute drivel. If this were my era, you would be in one of my temples, tempting kings to sin. You have a pleasing frame, and skin my high priestesses would have colored in shame of. ” Her fingers are still carding through his hair.

 

“Ah…er…Thank you. But that was then, and ah…this is now.” He feels distinctly uncomfortable with her assessment. 

 

“Beauty…beauty is only defined in the barest sense through the eras. It changes on its surface-each era puts forth its desirable traits…but underneath…beauty is the same. Beauty is someone that desires, that succeeds. What is more beautiful than someone in the midst of triumph? You are, from what I understand, the most successful person outside the ones you serve…You are one of the most beautiful persons on this world. Those that adhere to the surface beauty are destined to be disappointed.”

 

“While I appreciate the pep talk…I think you are putting a little more sentimentality in the human race than it actually possesses.”

 

She gives him another condescending look. “I was the goddess of love. I think I know a bit more about it than you do, Charles Foster Offdenson. Now what is this…Manhattan Shore?”

 

“Ah…remember your comment about absolute drivel?”

 

*^^*^*^*^*^^*^*^*^*^*^*^^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*

 

Nathan Explosion is, contrary to popular belief amongst record execs…not dumb as a box of rocks. He may not be a genius, or even particularly bright, but he wasn’t stupid.

 

Something was up in Mordhaus. Crazy shit happened ever since their manager got back.

 

Like the death and destruction. It was still there…but weirdly enough, some groups of people that used to get killed all the time…weren’t. Prostitutes did end up in Mordhaus from time to time. Suddenly they weren’t dying anymore. Which was great, ‘cause nothing killed the mood like that did. Instead, they were narrowly missing death or being saved by crazy happenstance. Even the other band mates noticed.

 

And cats! Stray cats that had been kept away by Yard wolves now just walked right past them to hang out on window ledges. They seemed to like the ones around Charles’s offices. 

 

And it was raining. A lot. Well…not like thunder and lightning, but rather soft showers that would be over in a few minutes.

 

And was it just him or was Charles’s office sporting a lot more blue lately? His last lamps had been made of lapi…lazuzi….blue stones. Not from Ikea. 

 

That, and Toki swears that you can’t see Charles in mirrors anymore. Which is weird. How would he shave…did he shave? After all, even staying up late at night with his band mates discussing whether Charles was a robot or not…never came to a satisfactory conclusion.

 

But perhaps the worst is when Charles stops hanging out with them completely. Always an excuse with that guy. Paperwork. Paternity suits. Those things were there before! What changed?

 

Nathan finds himself stomping down the halls to Charles’s office. Charles would know what was going on, and he would tell him, damn it. 

 

On his way, he stops by Skwissgar’s room and borrows a mirror-it’s shoved to him hastily through a crack and then he’s told to go away.

 

He doesn’t bother to wonder at the behavior-Skwissgar does weird crap.

 

He makes it to the office, shoving the door open.

 

Charles is sitting at his desk, barely glancing up, motioning for him to wait a moment while he finishes the call. He has a thin smile on his face-he must be handing someone back their entrails over the phone, because he could be like that sometimes. A lot of times.

 

Well, since he had a moment.

 

He turns his back to Charles and holds up the mirror, angling to see the smaller man in it. He kind of wants to see if Toki is right, because having a vampire lawyer manager is only slightly less cool than a manager that’s an actual robot and-

 

He finds his brain freezing at what he sees. It’s brutal…and a phone lands back in its cradle and suddenly it’s now looking at him.

 

“Now what can I…oh dear…Nathan…don’t freak out.”

 

*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^

 

This is bad. This is beyond bad. He should’ve paid attention to Nathan when he first came in, reined in War so it wouldn’t do that…Damn it, why did he bring a mirror in here anyway?

 

“Nathan…just…put the mirror down and look at me…okay?”

 

Nathan is currently doing double takes- looking at the Charles he can see behind the desk…and the Charles that is so very different in the mirror. The Charles in the mirror is starting to change, starting to look like Charles at the desk…but the damage is done. Nathan saw.

 

The Charles behind the desk carefully switches off all the security feeds.

 

“What the…what the hell is wrong with your reflection?!”

 

“It’s ah…fine. Look, it’s me. Well…now…”

 

“Are you like a vampire or something?” Suddenly he’s being eyed like he’ll develop a taste for blood. “Cause…ah…you’re not supposed to have a reflection…I uh….gotta go…”

 

He moves fast, but Charles has the benefit of years of exercise and good living. He closes the door behind him, ending up chest with Nathan. Nathan jumps back about three feet, now locked in the room with his manager.

 

“Nathan…calm down.”

 

Nathan is staring at him wide eyed.

 

“Nathan…I know what you saw in the mirror scared you…but it’s alright…I would never hurt you or any of the other boys. I’m here to protect you. I would Never. Hurt. You.”

 

“Then…uhh…why aren’t you letting me out?” Nathan backs up, putting the couch between them. He’s also keeping a hand up towards his neck, like if he stops protecting it for a second, he’ll be latched onto.

 

“Because you need to swear not to tell anyone. This is a secret. And…if this secret gets out…I may not be your manager anymore, I’ll have to leave. It would be too dangerous for me to stay, you’d all be in danger. I don’t want to leave, Nathan.”

 

“Have you been sucking our blood while we sleep?”

 

“Wait…what? No! Nathan, I’m not a vampire! And even if I was, I’d probably have died of alcohol poisoning by now. Look, it’s broad daylight! I was sitting in the sun, shouldn’t I have burned to ashes?” He really doesn’t know how he should be taking the situation.

 

“Some vampires…like…I guess they sparkle in light?” He can tell Nathan is grasping at straws and he is entirely offended.

 

“Do I look like I’m sparkling to you?!” He resists the urge to roll his eyes.

 

“No…” Nathan starts to come back around the couch. 

 

He still has his back to the door. If Nathan wants to leave this time, he’ll let him. Come what may.

 

“Why was your reflection…all weird?”

 

“I…ah…didn’t have control over myself like I should have. I’m sorry I frightened you, Nathan.”

 

“You didn’t look like you. Or you did…but…”Nathan’s words fail him and he knows how that feels. He had been terrified when he went past a mirror the first time and caught himself in the throes of War. Afterward, he’d made sure there weren’t any mirrors for that to happen accidentally again. He never saw himself in Love. Didn’t want to.

 

“It’s uh…complicated.”

 

“If you aren’t a Vampire…and I’m guessing you aren’t a robot…now...uh…what are you?” He starting to get closer than is what’s strictly comfortable, especially with the vivid dreams he’s been having.

 

“I’m just…what I’ve always been. I’m your manager, your lawyer. You don’t have to worry, Nathan.”

 

“I’m not worried.” Nathan keeps coming closer.

 

He startles a bit at the admission. “I…what?”

 

“You like…do stuff for us all the time. We always figured you had to be you know…not human. Robot was just the easiest thing to say…and you kinda act like it. But you always do what’s good for us, even though we like…threaten you. And stuff.”

 

“Ah…well, thank you for telling me that, Nathan. I appreciate that you know that.”

 

And he keep s comingcloser. Why does he keep coming closer?

 

“That thing you turned into in the mirror…that was pretty fucking brutal. What was that?”

 

“I ah…I’m not sure it can be understood. “ He tries to sidestep the question. He doesn’t want to explain these things, not when Nathan is getting far too close and he can feel the other aspect of his being starting to stir.

 

“Tell me.”

 

_Oh damn._


	4. Chapter 4

How can he resist?

 

“It…uh…it’s War.”

 

“War? What the fuck does that mean?” Nathan is confused, stepping closer.

 

“It ah…well it’s a long story.”

 

“You have nothing better to do.” The air of finality in Nathan’s words meant that he really didn’t.

 

“Well…I died, Nathan.”

 

“Yeah, I know, you told us.”

 

“No…I mean I didn’t fake my death, I actually died. And while I was dead, I met someone very special.”

 

“…You got married?”

 

“What? No! I met someone special, that isn’t code for…you know what, never mind. I didn’t get married. I met someone very powerful that was very, very angry.”

 

“At you?”

 

“No, at a common enemy…I can’t go into that right now. Anyway, she knew I wasn’t going to be dead long, so she made me a deal. I could have all the power and knowledge she still had, and I had to kill our common enemy.I came back to life. And I had all of her powers…the ones she still had anyway. They are a little difficult to control from time to time-I don’t have the benefit of millennia of experience. Which is why you saw that in the mirror. I…ah…lost control of War for a little bit.”

 

“Who was she? Did she tell you?”

 

“She was Inanna, Goddess of War.” And love, but that could be ignored right now. Yes it could.

 

“You got your freaky manager powers from a Goddess of War?” Nathan cocked his head at Charles like a cat viewing something particularly interesting. “Hunh…that’s…I don’t even know what that is.”

 

“Yes…well…it is what it is.” He offered. It was a stupid thing to say. This situation was just going to get more awkward.

 

Far more awkward if he didn’t get Nathan out of the room right now. He can feel Love starting to make its presence known.

 

“This is…wow. And you’re really…wow.” There is a light in his eyes and he’s looking at Charles with such excitement. Charles is starting to have difficulty keeping his professionalism in check. It gets worse when Nathan starts leaning in. “This could be awesome.”

 

His heart is pounding again, and he’s having a hard time breathing. Nathan is far too close. 

 

“I’m going to go write this down…I have like, a hundred songs I wanna write! Don’t worry, I won’t say anything about you being, like War or anything…the other guys wouldn’t like believe me….This so awesome…the next album is gonna be so metal!”

 

He barely has time to move from the door before Nathan bolts through. The door closes with a slam, and he finds himself very alone.

 

He carefully reaches over and locks the door, then slides down the wall to bury his head in his hands. That was…that was too close. And it didn’t help that most of the reason he was down on the floor was because he was frustrated beyond all measure and he had wanted, desperately, to be up against that rock hard body, trapped between it and the door…

 

Oh damn. He had it bad. But he couldn’t go through with it…not when it was obvious that Nathan didn’t want him that way…and there was that unspoken fear in him-what if Love made Nathan want him? And afterwards…it was just so horribly wrong? He couldn’t do that to Nathan, not to the band. He had to get up, to prove that he could do this.

 

He finds it difficult.

 

*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^**^*^^*^*

 

He’s much better at hiding and controlling Love now. He uses War to rein it in. He knows that isn’t how it’s supposed to work, and Inanna expressly disapproves when she finds the energy to come forward. But he has a job to do and it isn’t her choice, it’s his.

 

It has been over a month since he told Nathan. Nathan hasn’t told anyone, but a new album is in the works. The fans are screaming, the critics are waiting with bated breath-it’s all very profitable. 

 

After his confession, he took a week off, citing business meetings. Nathan was too busy holed in his room to notice. He used that time to bury himself in mystic incantations and ancient grimoirés, using whatever he could to get Love under control. It had taken no less than eighteen enchantments to stop its insidious machinations, and even that, he knew, was flimsy. Powers of gods and goddesses were not meant to be contained as such, and until he found himself something that could, he would just have to be careful.

 

The Band members were busy waiting as Klokateers rushed about, setting up for a live show-a benefit for another group of nameless, faceless (quite literally in some cases) people that they didn’t want to play for, but did so in order to keep their PR good so people would buy their CDs. 

 

He and the security detail are running through last minute inspections and checks-soon it will be time for Dethklok to take the stage.

 

After everything has been triple checked, he takes one last check-in with the band to ensure all of their needs have been seen to. It’s a predictable meeting-Toki is excited, but arguing about wanting to be lead guitarist. He and Skwissgar pay their manager little mind. William is sighing and bemoaning the unnecessary delay to Planet Piss. Pickles is humming and tapping out a beat to a song that could only be in his head, using spoons. He asks for booze after the show, is assured that he will have all of his normal favorites on standby.

 

Nathan looks down at him, informs him that he plans to sing a new song for the concert-one from the new album. 

 

He’s a little confused at this, why give away a song for free? The Klokateers were already taking recording devices with pain waivers, so there was little worry of losing revenue, but…

 

Nathan doesn’t give him an explanation, just leaves, roaring at the band to hurry up.

 

He internally shrugs. Must just be a whim.

 

^*^*^*^*^**^*^^**^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^

 

The first part of the concert goes off without a hitch. About twenty fans die per song, so the body count is fairly low for this concert. 

 

“Alright you Jackoffs! It’s time for you all to hear a new song! Open your ears, forsake your lives, and give YOURSELVES TO WAR!”

 

The music is adrenaline filled, stirring something in his chest. 

 

**WAR! Sing to your Gods!**

**WAR! Goddess of Battle!**

**Rise to your feet, grab your weapons**

**Dance the Battle of Death**

**Scream the name of the great one**

**Destroy your foes**

**I INVOKE YOU**

**I INVOKE YOU**

**I INVOKE YOU**

**INANNA GODDESS OF WAR!**

 

The song hits him squarely in the chest, tightening his lungs and making his vision swirl. He dimly hears the Klokateers snap into action- a fight has broken out in the fans-they are milling about in confusion and attacking anyone that comes in their reach. The Klokateers are steadfastly keeping them from the stage-they seem to be centered around the speakers, where the music is louder.

 

He can’t think, his chest feels like it’s on fire, and worse is the strange feeling of metallic tingling and prodding on his back, like something is moving inside of him.

 

The Klokateers are busy putting out small fires (metaphorical and realistic), not realizing yet that there is something wrong with their commander.

 

His vision clears enough that he manages to grab a senior Klokateer-Number 58B, if he could remember correctly.

 

“Get me to the Dethcopter.” He hisses. His skull feels like it could explode. While that would be suitably brutal, and provide a great deal of inspiration for the next album cover, he’d rather it not happen.

 

The Klokateer doesn’t ask questions, just assists him away from the backstage area, away from the song that’s still screaming through the speakers. 

 

He doesn’t remember most of the journey, just that as he gets farther from the stage, his vision clears more and more, but his body is still wracked in agony. He dismisses the Klokateer as soon as possible, put the man in charge-he’s been at enough of these concerts, and he knows what to do.

 

He has a private office on the Dethcopter-he stumbles inside, locking the door and turning off the security. He hits the ground hard after missing a step-he doesn’t bother to get up. Instead, he concentrates on trying to get his power under control.

 

He manages to pull in his influence, centralizing it inwards. 

 

It hurts. The feeling of tingling in his back gets worse, that mechanical clicking building pressure higher and higher until it finally breaks free, filling him with pain and terrible relief.

 

His head feels like it will split open. He can’t focus. It takes all he has not to scream at the top of his lungs. His face itches, like something is crawling across his cheeks and into his eyes.

 

He still can’t breathe, and he scratches at his neck, tie ending up in tatters on the floor, drops of blood disappearing in the lush carpet.

 

He knows in the back of his mind that his suit jacket is ruined. He doesn’t care. Control needs to be regained immediately. With a herculean amount of effort, he wills the Aspect of War, screaming and snarling, back under control. 

 

His vision clears completely; his body is still ablaze with agony. His hands are shaking and covered in blood and black markings that will not rub off. His fingernails are more like claws.

 

He loses consciousness before he has the chance to look at the rest of the damage.

 

*^*^*^*^*^*^*^**^*^*^

 

He hasn’t seen Charles since before the concert, which is a bummer, because he really wanted to see what he thought of it. He was probably having to do stuff with the Klokateers, or talk to people about all the fans that just died.

 

He had to admit, that was kinda weird. As soon as he ended the first verse, there were fans just tearing each other apart. Usually, that didn’t happen until the last song.

 

Still, the concert was pretty Brutal, anyway. The Dethklok minute was going on about the new album and how reports were saying how awesome the song was-it was going good, Charles liked that kind of publicity, right?

 

So where was he?

 

Wait…was he mad about the song? Because he had made sure not to mention Charles at all…maybe he should check.

 

The other band members were carousing with groupies, so he didn’t have to worry too much about leaving. A few fans follow him. They are all wearing band t-shirts, with far too much make-up and long black hair.

 

He can’t really tell them apart. They sound alike too.

 

“Nathan Explosion, oh my god, you’re amazing!” Bimbo one coos.

 

“Can we go to your room?” Bimbo two leans forward, showing an awesome amount of cleavage.

 

“I’ve uh…gotta talk to my manager real quick.” He has to shake one off his arm.

 

“We just want to show our appreciation…”

 

“You can talk boring old business anytime!”

 

“Yeah, He’ll still be there. “ Bimbo three sneers. 

 

He doesn’t get a chance to growl at her because suddenly the girl’s head snaps back as if her hair is being pulled by an unknown force.

 

She screams and falls on her backside, looking around wildly. There’s no one in the hall with them. She does the only thing she can think of-starts to cry.

 

The other girls stare at her slack jawed. Nathan quickly uses the distraction to take off.

 

That was creepy. Really creepy. After he asked Charles about the song, he’d ask him to perform an exorcism on the chopper.

 

But he isn’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth. And she did kinda have it coming. For whatever reason. 

 

Charles has his office locked. Glaring at it does not help matters.

 

He knocks softly at first, then loudly. Before long he’s pounding on the door. “Offdenson! I wanna talk to you, open up!”

 

Nothing. 

 

Had he really screwed up this time?

 

Suddenly the door unlocks and swings ajar. He sighs in relief and opens it, expecting Charles to be right there.

 

No one is around the door. The lights are off. 

 

Totally gonna do that exorcism. Or at least figure out if the ghost died brutally. Then maybe they could keep it at Mordhaus. Like a pet.

 

He steps inside, making a beeline for the barely visible desk. He barely registers the room getting dark again when the click of a door shutting assaults his senses.

 

Had the room not been soundproof, the entire world could have heard Nathan Explosion howl.

 

As it was, it died in the pitch black of the room.

 

He needed to get some light. Bogeymen didn’t like light, and he was almost to the desk anyway. 

 

In his excitement to get to the desk, he kicks something on the floor and stumbles hard, catching his stomach on the edge of the desk. Further fumbling causes several things to crash to the floor, but not with the crystal clarity of a falling lamp. He manages to get his hand on something hard, but it doesn’t feel like a lamp, it feels distinctly rough…and smells like pasta…damn it, Toki!

 

A lamp flares to life beside him. He hasn’t touched it. The drawstring is slowly twisting back and forth.

 

“Oh fuck…we are getting that exorcism.”

 

“Won’t work…not against…her.” The reedy voice comes from behind him. It sounds a bit like Charles, but Charles would not be on the floor.

 

He straightens up and looks behind him.

 

Staring for a moment, he then looks up at the ceiling, sort of expecting Charles to be there. Normal Charles. Not scary looking covered in blood and black swirly markings with claws and what the fuck is wrong with his back. Charles.

 

He doesn’t see normal Charles.

 

Charles is speaking. But he doesn’t appear to be talking to Nathan. He’s talking to someone else. In a language he can’t understand. But the way he’s talking, he must be in a great deal of pain.

 

Nathan hesitantly went to his knees, bending over the prone form of his manager.

 

“Charles…are you okay?”

 

“I’ll…I’ll be fine. The concert…was good?”

 

He hadn’t been there for the whole concert? That hardly ever happened.

 

“Yeah…uh…it was great. Murderface might even get lucky tonight.”

 

Charles laughs, but it sounds like it hurts. “Good…good for him.”

 

“Charles?”

 

“Yes?”

 

“Are you going to die?”

 

“I…don’t think so…just need…” His breath catches suddenly, and he doesn’t finish the sentence.

 

He put his hand on his manager’s neck-satisfied the man is still alive, he tries to gather him up. He wants to call the med-gears, but how could he explain this and keep the secret?

 

The black swirls on Charles feel funny…hot to the touch. Whatever is happening to his back right now with the skin splitting and the metal…cold.

 

He ends up with Charles half on his lap, limply settled between his arms.

 

He’s never seen his manager like this…ever…not since the attack on Mordhaus. Suddenly he’s seized with fear. What if Charles dies? What if he never comes back this time?

 

“Charles….Charles tell me what to do. Wake up!”

 

Charles comes to groggily. “Nathan?”

 

“Tell me what to do.”

 

Charles is just staring at him with a funny expression, like he knows but doesn’t.

 

“Tell me!”

 

Charles kisses him.

 

*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^^**^


	5. Chapter 5

At first he can’t register what’s happening, and his body responds automatically.

 

Charles is still kissing him throughout his shock, and trying to sit up even though he has to be in pain.

 

He slides his arm around the shorter man helping him up, even as his brain starts to come back online.

 

Charles is kissing him.

 

Charles Foster Offdenson is kissing him.

 

Charles _Fucking_ Offdenson is kissing him.

 

And he’s pretty good at it, actually.

 

Charles suddenly breaks away, wide eyed.

 

“I…uh…oh god…”

 

The first thing he notices after the look on his mangers face is that the black swirling marking … things … on his face are receding. 

 

Wait…this was helping? Kissing Charles was making him better?

 

Before Charles could stammer out anything else, he crushes his lips to the smaller man, cutting off his voice and any words he might have said.

 

^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^^**^

 

He’s trapped between strong arms that fuel a stirring need in him and mounting panic. He can’t do this…why can’t he do this? Nathan kissed him back, and Love is still sealed up…and it feels incredible. 

 

And it helps. Just kissing him is making some of the awful itching sensations on his face recede. So why was he fighting? 

 

Nathan was very good at kissing.

 

He parts his lips and Nathan is deepening the kiss. He’s beginning to have trouble breathing, not because of the way his body has changed. He breaks the kiss, panting, trying to catch his breath. 

 

Nathan’s lips end up on his neck and he is not expecting that. He can’t help arching into Nathan’s arms as hot lips slide across his pulse. It takes him a moment to realize that Nathan seems to be worrying at a wound on his neck…shallow, but it still stings when Nathan’s tongue drags across it. It must have happened when he was trying to get the tie off. He hisses in appreciation.

 

When Nathan tangles a hand into his hair and pulls his head back to get better access, he moans. He can’t help it. 

 

He watches in wonder as the hand fisted in Nathan’s shirt starts to lose its otherworldly appearance. It’s ironic, he supposes-a man that indirectly causes the death and destruction of thousands, whom some believe to be a demon made flesh, is making him human.

 

His train of thought is derailed as his mouth is captured again. His hands cling to Nathan’s shoulders right now, free to do so not that they don’t look like they can rend flesh. 

 

After a few moments of passionate kissing, he finds himself straddling Nathan’s lap. Nathan’s hands slip down his back and he hisses, not in pleasure. Nathan immediately stops, jerking back. His back hasn’t reverted to its normal state. It’s painful, and for a minute, he just buries his head into Nathan’s shoulder.

 

“Charles…you okay?”

 

“…yes…”

 

If Nathan knows it’s a lie, he has the decency not to say anything. He settles big, glorious hands on his hips and holds him steady. Charles knows what he wants. He knows. But there is still a shred of him that’s decent, that wants to give Nathan an out. 

 

“I think…I can do the rest on my own…if you want to go.” He says quietly.

 

A hand buries in his hair, bringing him back to look in Nathan’s eyes. “This is helping, right?”

 

His mouth goes a little dry. “Yes. Yes it is.”

 

“I want to help you.”

 

“I don’t know if you know what that means.” He tells him, leaning into the palm.

 

Nathan is kissing him again. “Stop worrying.”

 

And just like that, the desire that he’s been trying to keep at bay burst forward, and he finds himself pressing as close as he can to the larger body, hips moving obscenely. Nathan makes a surprised sound, like he didn’t expect this (how could he?) and grips his hip hard, forcing him to stop. He whimpers. His body needs this and Nathan is stopping him…does he want to leave?

 

He doesn’t know how they end up on the floor, his back pressed into the carpet (it doesn’t hurt…) and Nathan on top of him, holding him down, looking at him with those eyes …so intense. A whine escapes his throat. He wants Nathan so badly.

 

Nathan just stares at him for a minute, then, as if reaching a monumental decision, gives Charles what he needs. The shirt comes off in a flurry of buttons and ripped scraps of cloth. He cries out when Nathan presses a sucking bite on his chest, bucking up into the embrace. He manages to get his hands under the bigger man’s shirt, running his hands across a muscled chest and hard stomach.

 

Nathan growls…fucking growls at him and he can’t help the noises he’s making now. Then Nathan touches him and he cries out loudly, echoing in the room.

 

It shouldn’t be this damn intense. But when Nathan strokes him his limbs turn to jelly and he’s entirely at the other man’s mercy. He ends up just gripping Nathan’s shoulders tightly, riding the wave of pleasure as it threatens to topple him over the edge. 

 

“N-Nathan…” he grits his teeth-he doesn’t want this to end so soon, not like this. 

 

Nathan growls again and thrusts.

 

_Oh my._

 

*^*^*^*^**^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^

 

This would be a lot easier to do if Charles wasn’t making all these hot little fucking noises and acting like he was fucking in heat.

 

It was just going to be kissing, and maybe a little groping, but this was steadily going into different territory, and damned if he was going to follow Offdenson there.

 

But fuck, he didn’t want to hurt the guy, and got so freaked out when he touched those ugly metal bits. Which were gone now-thank god, because while they were metal and brutal and all that, he probably would have sliced his arm open and bled to death during sex. Which was an awesome idea for a song and if he wasn’t currently trying to yank his manager’s pants off, he’d say something.

 

“Nathan…fuck!”

 

Charles is arching again, and he takes that moment to finally free his manager of his pants. 

 

He doesn’t have enough time to pull off his own clothes…he needs to be inside Charles. Like now. Right now.

 

He hisses and looks around quickly. There’s some lotion in the pile of knick knacks he knocked other when he tried to find the light. He snatches it up and begins to prepare Charles. Charles is biting him and clawing at him, and it’s really difficult to tell if it’s enough, because fuck…

 

He can’t take it anymore. He roughly shoves aside his own pants, just enough to get his erection unhindered. Anticipation makes him rough with the smaller man, positioning him just so. He doesn’t want to be gentle. He wants to make Charles scream.

 

A hard thrust makes Charles howl. It’s the final nail on the coffin-Nathan loses control completely, slamming into the smaller man again and again.

 

*^*^^**^^*^*^*^**^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*

It isn’t gentle or sweet. It’s passionate, rough, and absolutely amazing.

 

Charles has never been so lost in another’s embrace. He can’t think of anything besides what Nathan is doing to him, and it is liberating beyond all measure.

 

The pressure builds in him twisting like a glorious thing, until it finally snaps and he cries out his lover’s name. His vision whites out for an indeterminable amount of time. When he comes too, he’s still wrapped up in Nathan and pinned against the floor as the bigger man pants, trying to regain his breath. 

 

“Wow…” Nathan breathes into his ear. It sends little electric tingles across his over stimulated body. He can’t find his voice, so awkwardly pats Nathan’s shoulder.

 

“Is it always this way with you?” Nathan asks.

 

“I...uh…don’t know anymore. The Aspect of Love is a little unpredictable.” He manages to get out the sentence in one go-he’s mildly proud of himself.

 

“Hunh…well…if you need any help figuring it out…”

 

^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^**^

 

She’s sitting on the couch next to the red haired drummer, rolling her eyes at some of the ridiculous come-ons that these girl…fans? Are coming up with. She’s been here for almost an hour-she felt privacy was in order. Another girl makes a blatant proposition to the tall blonde guitarist-he looks like a son of Odin. She silently applauds her for directness. Much better than misused language.

 

He says something that she recognizes as an acceptance, but his words are so mangled by the foreign tongue that she can’t piece them together. He’ll have sex with her tonight, probably with some of her tag-alongs as well. It won’t fulfill him. He’ll run to another later…one he doesn’t want anybody to know about.

 

She sighs and slouches on the couch. The least the boy could have done was allow her to return to sleep! 

 

“This is absurd. When will this flying contraption land?”

 

“Ehn. Prahbably another hour.” The red haired man next to her supplied.

 

She looks over at him. He in turn looks at her.

 

“Yah, know, yer kinda pretty. Lemme guess…you’re the Government weed speaking.”

 

“Your drugs are potent.”

 

“Eh. I dunno. They kinda been fallin’ off lately.”

 

^*^*^*^*^^*^*^*^*^**^*^*^*^^*^**^*^*^*^^**^^**^*^*^*^*

 

When they land at Mordhaus, he’s barely in his suit. He feels like a newborn calf, unable to walk straight and more than a bit unsteady. He manages to cover it carefully though. Everyone is off the copter, arm in arm with groupies (by god, Nathan was right…William did have one) and ready for the concert after after party, which would no doubt end in hangovers and alcohol induced stupors.

 

Nathan leaves with them, a pair of groupies latching on to him right before they land. A third looks skittish as she sticks close to the singer. Nathan shoots him a look as they lead him away, still probably leery of leaving him alone.

 

It was sweet.

 

He makes it all the way back to his office and rooms with little issue. A look at his desk confirms that it will all need to wait until tomorrow-he’s exhausted and has no strength to deal with it now.

 

He slips into pajama pants and falls to the bed, deliciously sore in all the right places. It didn’t go as he feared, and Nathan wasn’t opposed to ‘helping’ him again. 

 

It was good.

 

^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^**^^*^**^*^*^*^*^*


End file.
